Kill Me Now
by firewolfsg
Summary: Dick reluctantly tells Bruce about his assignment with the BHPD in case it impacts Wayne Industries' PR.
1. Kill Me Now

This short-short was prompted into existence by a newspaper article I was reading about the metrosexual male and waxing.

It's an encouragement Fic for Maven Cree to write more of her "Beautiful Ones" story which you can find on under Nightwing

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**Kill Me Now**

By Jacque Koh

"You're doing what for the BHPD?"

Dick sighed at his adopted father's shocked face. "There's been several murders in Bludhaven and--" He glared at the manila envelope he had in his hand. "I got the short straw.

"Anyway-- I thought you should know in case… Well-- in case someone finds out and--" Dick shuffled his feet as he looked away; his face was deeply flushed with embarrassment as he tucked the envelope under an arm.

"Tries to link the Wayne heir to--" Bruce coughed before grabbing his mug of coffee to take a long drink before he lost it.

Dick glanced up at his father and frowned. "You're smirking."

"I am not." Bruce swore silently to himself that he had better control than that.

"You had better not tell Babs or Tim." Dick growled at him.

"Tell me what?" Tim bounced down the stairs of the Batcave.

"Oh--"

"Bruce…"

"Tell me what?"

"Maybe when you're older…"

"Bruce!" Dick unfolded his arms and took a menacing step towards where his father sat at the bat computers. That, he discovered was a bad move.

"What's this?" Tim spotted his chance and swiped the manila envelope Dick had been clutching in his hand.

"Tim! Give that bac--"

Tim stared at the object he'd tipped out into his hand. He could have called it underwear, but the word engendered something with a lot more cloth than this-- thing warranted.

"Oh, God. Kill me now."

No, Dick's superior officer in the Bludhaven Police Department should be killed for this, Bruce decided. The humour of the entire situation evaporated in the actual face of what his son would be wearing in front of a crowd of-- "Dick... You are not prancing about stage in--"

"You've got a case in a strip joint?" Tim squeaked. If he had only heard it, it would have been hilarious, but looking at this tiny-- thing...

"It's not like I had any choice in this." Dick snatched the scrap of cloth out of Tim's limp hands.

"Dick, you're not wearing that!" Bruce thundered behind him. Not that it was much good when Dick and Tim weren't paying very much attention to him.

"Dude... This is-- obscene." Tim looked like he wanted to poke at the scrap of cloth which Dick was distastefully holding between two fingers but was afraid to.

"That's the whole idea." Dick completely missed Bruce's stormy expression of protectiveness while he glared at the item which he'd snatched back from Tim. "This is the final uniform. At the least, it's something. I could have ended up in the buff."

"Man--" Tim winced in sympathy. "You're going to have to shave, won't you?"

"Worse--" Dick stared at it mournfully. "I'll need a Brazilian."

It took a second or two for his meaning to sink in. "Oooowwwww!" Tim's hands flew protectively over his crotch. "You mean men actually wax there too?"

Dick nodded with a sigh.

"That's brutal!"

"Dick!"

"What?" He frowned at the expression on his father's face. "Bruce? I am a full grown man with over ten years of unarmed combat experience, and not a virginal, teenage girl. I'd thank you to remember that."

"I never allowed you to do Vice work while you were Robin." He told his son stonily.

"Bruce." Dick gave him an exasperated glare as he dropped his 'costume' back in the manila envelope. "It's not like I won't have back up. I--"

"And just how effective are the BHPD at backup?" Dick winced at his harshness, but he had to admit that his father had a point about the BHPD's reputation. "Furthermore, wearing just-- just-- You have no place to hide concealed weapons or--" Bruce turned determinedly back to his computers. "We're asking Oracle to lend us--"

"Hell no!" Dick blanched. "I don't want anyone who knows me watching--"

Bruce didn't pay him a lick of attention as his hands flew over the keys to pull up the Bludhaven Police Case files and zero in on the reports of the five male strippers who had been found murdered and mutilated. Dick shuddered as he recognised the tight set in Bruce's jaw which told him that his father wasn't going to be swerved from his plans.

"Oracle should be able to lend us Dinah... Cassandra-- No!

"Selina could be persuadable... Diana might agree to a favour, I could probably pique her interest in observing..."

"Great... Just... great. Batman's going to get Black Canary, Catwoman and Wonder Woman to watch me strip." Dick looked mournfully towards Tim who was bent over and giggling madly as he started to see the humour in the situation. "Kill me now."

End

Thanks for reading,

Cheers,

Jacque


	2. I Wanna Die

**DISCLAIMER:** The characters belong to DC and not me. I'm just borrowing them for a while to spin a tale.

A long time coming, but here's another part of the story where Nightwing has a case in a Strip Joint.

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I Wanna Die  
By firewolf  
February 2009

While he had approached them separately, Batman observed that his conversations with the three heroines began and ended much in the same way. Though in the case of Black Canary, the protests were continued quite vehemently by Green Arrow.

"Bruce, I can't believe you have the nerve to ask me something like that?!" was growled in his face with little variation.

His reply had been the same. "It's a licensed theatre."

"Whatever! It's still a strip joint! The very idea of that whole entertainment sector blatantly panders to a man's basest instincts, is crudely exploitative of woman, obscene, and--" Was said in different ways but the gist of the statements were quite similar.

In any case, he cut them off with the same mission specs. "I'm not asking for your participation in this case as a performer. You'll be in the audience."

"That doesn't sound much bett--"

"The performers are all male." That pronouncement garnered immediate silence and raised eyebrows from all three women.

"There are places where men strip?" Diana was the only one to ask that. Whereas Selina and Dinah were more interested in the theatre's alleged licensing. He gave them the same answer.

"It's a free country and the place is licensed for that kind of performance in the city."

"Are you--" On later reflection, Bruce had to wonder if he should have felt flattered or wary when he detected a hopeful spark in the eyes of all three women as they tentatively started but never outright finished that question.

"It's in Bludhaven; Nightwing's case."

"Oh." It frustrated him that all three women responded with much the same tone and gave him equally enigmatic smiles. All three of them! And days later he still didn't understand what they were thinking of, or meant with that little 'Oh.'

He didn't know what Queen was making a fuss over. Bruce couldn't believe any of the women were seriously interested in his son. Selina and Dinah practically watched Dick grow up over the years as first a pre-teen Robin before he took up the identity as Nightwing. And Diana wasn't a cradle snatcher.

On top of that, he really didn't understand why his son was so upset with him. After all, Nightwing couldn't have asked for more solid back up from among the ladies in their select community.

* * *

It didn't take a mind reader to know Oliver Queen was majorly upset over the case Batman had invited Black Canary to take part in. He just could not believe the man didn't recognise the smile Dinah had given him for the suggestion that she would be watching Nightwing strip.

For fuck's sake, the kid was *infamous* for having the best male ass in their select community. Oliver was just glad Dinah hadn't drooled when she gave her consent to join the mission.

Oliver was sure Dinah knew *he* was upset about the whole idea, but did she politely decline Bruce's request? Hell no! Dinah even hinted to Oliver about having caught a precious eyeful once and always wanting an opportunity for a longer and more thorough study. It made him fume and she revelled in the situation.

At the end of the day though, Green Arrow was gracious enough to not hold it against Nightwing. After all, the kid had come over to beg *him* to change Dinah's mind. And Oliver had to feel for the poor guy when they approached her room only to overhear her making massive plans with Oracle for several hen parties with selected 'bat-cleared' members of Oracle's Birds of Prey on the nights Nightwing was due to appear on stage.

His children, Roy, Connor and Mia were to enter the Arrow household to find Nightwing quietly sobbing on his shoulder. Roy immediately dragged his best friend off for a bit of male bonding to try and ease his troubles, leaving a very curious Connor and Mia looking towards their father/guardian for an explanation.

Oliver, however, steadfastly avoided explaining what in their home had traumatised Nightwing so seriously. It was bad enough Dinah showed a facet that lusted after Batman's son, Queen was damned if he'd let his son or ward join in and pester Dinah into letting them be included in the Nightwing ogling parties.

* * *

Most of Nightwing's words were muffled under the pillow he was firmly holding over his face, but Roy thought he could just make out a steady mantra of: "I wanna die. I wanna die. I wanna die."

"Robbie, Robbie, Robbie." Roy tried but failed to pull the pillow off his best friend's face. "Come on, you're looking at it all wrong.

"I mean, you're going to have some of the hottest babes in our community giving you all their steamy eyed attention. That's got to count for something?"

Dick pulled the pillow off his face to sit up and glare at Roy. "Catwoman, Roy! He asked Catwoman *and* Wonder Woman to watch me strip."

"So?"

"Roy! Wonder Woman's Donna's older *sister* and I've known Selina since I was a kid and in pixie boots. What would you say if it was Dinah watching *you* strip?"

Roy winced hard as he got the point. Dinah was practically like a mother to him. And he wasn't sure he was all right about her watching his best bud stripping either. However…

"So *don't* think about those particular ladies. If I know Dinah, she's probably organising some hen parties, isn't she? So there'll be pah-len-ty of awesome babes ogling your damn fine."

"You're not making this easier!" Dick flopped back on the bed and pulled the pillow on his face again.

"Dick? What are you? Ten? The other boys lied when they said girls have cooties." Roy tried to take the pillow again before his best bud suffocated himself. "Think about the line up at the Birds. There must be some ladies in Bab's team you'd be glad to have ogling, and hope they'll leave you a number too.

"Bab's is sure to--"

"She's already familiar..."

"Huntress--"

"We're acquainted..."

"Barda--"

"Married!" Nightwing sat up to remove the pillow and glared at Red Arrow to stop him from running through the roster of Oracle's Birds. "Roy? You're a pig, you know that?"

"I'm just looking at the bright side." Roy grinned at his distressed friend.

Dick flopped back on the bed and pulled the pillow over his face once more to continue his mantra of: "I wanna die. I wanna die. I wanna die."

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Thanks for reading. hope that brought a giggle.  
Cheers, firewolf


	3. Put Me Out of My Misery

DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to DC and not me. I'm just borrowing them for a while to spin a tale.

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**Put Me Out of My Misery**  
By firewolf  
June 2010

"Ba—Oracle, please say it ain't so." Nightwing pleaded with her over the private line.

"And a good evening to you too, FBW. But what are you on about?" Babs answered sweetly, easily guessing what the beleaguered man referred to, but playing dumb for the fun of it.

"Br—Batman! Isn't he having you set up surveillance and cameras around that—club case I'm working on?"

"Oh, that one." She immediately pulled up on screen the camera which Robin arranged for her to be directly pointing at a stage. Mmmmhmmmm, these current specimens gyrating on the stage at the club were fine specimens too. But nothing beat her boy's perfect ass. "Well, I can't lie. I have been working on it. We've got great views outside and inside."

"Please tell me you're not making a recording."

Babs crossed the fingers of both hands. "'I'm not making a recording.'"

"You're only just saying that!" Nightwing yelled at her over the line. "You don't mean it!"

"Now, now, FBW, you know I have to record every camera angle we can possibly get for studying later."

"Then what's the reason for the four pointing on the stage?"

Oh, so that's what happened to those four cameras. Fortunately, she had Batgirl plant another eight. "Awww, FBW, you know I'll always watch your back." And that drool worthy ass, and those powerful legs and...

"Just—just tell me you're not going to sell the recordings."

"No, of course I'm not going to sell the recordings." Babs told him haughtily. "What do you take me for?"

She could hear Dick starting to breathe a sigh of relief thinking he should have known he could count on her in his hour of need. The poor boy really should have known better.

"I'm neither mercenary nor selfish; I'd share it for free."

Babs prudently dropped the connection before Nightwing's scream of despair could break her eardrums.

* * *

Really, Deathstroke should have known better than to follow up on this lead for a chance to tease Grayson. But let it not be said that Slade Wilson didn't have a sense of humour which demanded he drop in on his sometime enemy to needle him about his cases.

"What do you want, Slade?" Nightwing turned to glare at the mercenary grumpily as he leaned dejectedly against an alley wall.

Deathstroke blinked at him with some surprise, he hadn't realised Nightwing spotted him trailing him and had just waited for him to catch up. Before he could open his mouth to speak though, Nightwing took one look at him and pointed a finger almost at his nose.

"Oh, no. Don't *you* start. This is already enough of a nightmare." The younger man told him determinedly. "I'm going to really beat you up something fierce if you're here to tell me you've got a contract here in my city too."

'Beat *him* up? Well, he could try.' Slade coughed in amusement when he realised how high strung Grayson was. So the rumours were true after all. "Oh, I'm just passing through to see the *sights*, kid."

Nightwing stared at him. "Oh, God, kill me now. You heard too? Is this all over the villain community too?"

Deathstroke waved him off. "Your identity's safe, kid. Your guys have been discrete so it's been quiet on that front. I heard the gossip in the higher corporate community about the Wayne heir on an—embarrassing case."

Nightwing had his face buried in his hands. "I wanna die. I don't know what could be worse anymore."

"Hey," Slade grinned at him, "if the Hero community knows, then you'll have a lot of support and backup from them, won't you? That must count for something?"

"Black Canary's organizing hen parties." The hero practically sobbed while Deathstroke desperately tried not to laugh.

"I can't do it, Slade. I can't." Nightwing was wailing so pathetically, Deathstroke was starting to feel sorry for the poor kid. "I mean, not only will I have to dance in front of a bar filled with people I've practically grown up with and—and *strip* for them. I might—Oh God, there'll be patrons who'll want me to—to *lap dance* for them—"

Deathstroke's brain sort of short circuited at the word 'lap dance' and he didn't hear the rest of Nightwing's rant. Instead, a very alarming vision of what he imagined Nightwing's butt would look like unclothed flashed before Slade's eyes (yes, even the absent eye) and stayed in the forefront of his mind.

Daaaaammmmnnnn—he'd always been a ladies' man but Slade wasn't exactly immune to admiring damn fine looking bodies no matter the gender. And Nightwing's ass was known across their very select community as 'Damn Fine' indeed. And the idea of having that really *damn* fine ass, near nude and gyrating inches from a patron's appreciative eyes—well—it might just be worth it for him to reconsider his steadfast stance on his own sexuality and consider 'experimenting.' Given the attention he was suddenly paying to another male's anatomy, Slade rather thought it evident that he was—*maybe* a little—'Bi'. Maybe—?

His little reverie, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by Nightwing. And Deathstroke was sadly too stunned to realise his danger.

* * *

A rather swift few pounding minutes later...

Slade tipped over and crawled out from a garbage can while desperately willing his head to stop ringing. He could not believe what the kid did to him. And just how the hell did Nightwing beat the shit out of him so thoroughly and quickly? He hadn't been that distracted by his thoughts about Nightwing's naked butt, had he?

But for crying out loud! Stuffing him head first into a *garbage can* of all things. That was downright insulting. Did he have a death wish or—Oh—so he did.

Deathstroke grinned broadly under his mask as he dusted his uniform off as best as he could. He'd be doing the kid a favour if he killed or injured him, so Slade determined that he'd let this one slide.

Now if he could just wheedle out details of when Officer Grayson was to perform, Slade figured he'd have a bit of fun and mingle with the crowd of heroines who'd no doubt be attracted to the idea of watching the best ass in their community strip for them. Slade was quite sure a fun night was to be had by all.

"Sorry, kid. You're not going to have me get you out of this predicament that easily."

"Fooey, you're no fun." Nightwing's disgruntled voice drifted down to him from the roof of the building he was standing beside, making Slade spin around in startled surprise until he located the hero. "And here I was helpfully staying nearby so you didn't need to waste much effort trying to hunt me down."

Slade laughed loud and hard. "You're not getting out of this on my ticket, kid." The mercenary quickly scaled the wall to join the younger man on the roof top. "I figure you'd suffer more if I leave you unhurt and intact."

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to shoot me even a *little* bit?" Nightwing held up his fingers in a pinching gesture. "You know, a *teeny* *tiny* flesh wound would do the trick? I'd beg and say 'please'?"

Slade grinned at him. "Not a chance. In fact, I just volunteered to be the best bodyguard you'll ever have."

"I swear you're the meanest bastard alive, Slade." Nightwing sighed dejectedly as the older man clapped him on the shoulder in false comfort. "And here I was thinking I could count on you to put me out of my misery."

"Nothing doing, kid." And if Slade had anything to say about it, maybe he'd just quietly see if he could locate this serial killer too and take him out. It would be worth a couple of months of laughs to stick Grayson in a strip joint for a whole lot longer than he hoped was necessary. Slade thought there'd be a good number of ladies who'd be pleased about a scenario like that too.

~End~

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Thanks for reading.  
Cheers, firewolf


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